Transformers Renaissance: Primus Inter Pares
by MyBlueOblivion
Summary: Gen1, AU, set where the movie and seasons three and four currently reside. The Autobots recieve word of an artefact that could mean the end of all life, both on Earth and on Cybertron, and Starscream makes a bid for power.
1. Chapter 1

_Transformers: Renaissance_

_Part One: Primus Inter Pares_

_Chapter 1_

"_...The nascent desire to be named 'First Amongst Equals' speaks louder than any word in declaring the inequality of Man..."_- Anon.

_South America, z-minus eighteen days_

Lucas Holt stopped digging for a moment, reaching up and wiping the sweat from his forehead for the hundredth time in as many minutes. His dust and soil caked fingers left grimy streaks across his tanned face, adding to his dishevelled appearance. He let out a deep sigh, the nagging pain in his lower back beginning to burn and his muscles begging him to stretch out for a minute. He ignored them; he was too close, far too close to stop now.

The mid-day sun beat down upon him, bathing the dense, South American jungle foliage around him in golden light. Holt was kneeling in a fair sized clearing, not twenty metres from the base of an ancient pyramid of Mayan design. But the vast artefact was not the centre of his interest. He and his team of archaeologists were here for a much more important find, one that could revolutionise the way mankind viewed the universe.

Six weeks previously, a survey team passing through the area had discovered something in the deep Amazon basin that should not have been there: an energy source the likes of which had never been seen. A team had been assembled immediately by the United States government, under the guise of a standard archaeological dig. And now, after a week and a half of trekking through impossible terrain and another week of digging, they were almost there.

Holt shifted away a handful of reddish soil, wondering how much further he would have to dig. Ultrasonic scans of the area had shown a large, metallic object buried almost ten metres below the earth, and Holt and his team had been taking shifts to dig down to find it. They were taking their time, not willing to risk the chance that the energy source was a crashed Soviet or American nuclear warhead. Whilst no radiation had been detected, there was no point in taking risks.

Holt shifted another handful of dirt, and stopped. He wasn't sure if he was there, and tapped the ground experimentally. There was definitely something just below the soil. Holt looked up and locked eyes with his long-time partner, Eduardo Gomez. This was it. He began to scrabble the soil away from the object, slowly uncovering the device. Another few minutes of digging revealed a large, elliptical frame around a spherical core, both made of a light blue metal. The central core was hollow, open at two small apertures at it's front and back, and contained an unidentified material that emitted a faint green glow.

The device was huge, at least three metres wide, and weighed too much for six men to lift. It's surface was studded with Mayan pictographs, scratched into the surface. The team poured as much water as they could spare over it, cleaning away thousands of years of dirt and leaving the device to dry in the sun. No-one had a clue as to what it may have been, let alone how it was working. There were no obvious signs of instrumentation, no tool marks or even obvious moving parts. Holt sidled over to Gomez, nudging his old friend in the ribs.

"What do you think, Ed," he whispered. Gomez shrugged, then turned to his friend.

"Not the first clue, boss," he said, his voice awed. "You?"

"I'll tell you one thing for sure," Holt replied, "I know what it isn't. And that's 'possible'. This is like finding a Concorde that's been buried since two thousand years before we landed on the moon for the first time. This doesn't look like something we could produce _now_, let alone when the scans said it had to have been buried."

"Luke," sighed Gomez, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand, "I don't think this thing is even just 'not possible'. I don't think it's even from around here."

"I know what you mean," Holt said, nodding to himself. "Its definitely not from around here..."

O o O o O

_The Ark, Colorado, USA, z-minus sixteen days_

Optimus Prime stood in front of Teletran One, a look of concern crossing his features. The vast computer screen in front of him displayed reports and pictures from around the world, as well as feeds from Cybertron. Scrolling streams of text gave him information on his own forces' movements, worldwide newscasts from the humans, and any reported signs of Decepticon activity. To many, the constant tide of information was overwhelming, but Prime was so used to the tactical display that reading it had become second nature. Only now, most of it went by the wayside, as his attention was drawn to one report in particular, the source of his concern.

Behind Prime, a shorter mech entered the control room. His armour was made up of black or charcoal grey plating, overlaid with large sections of gloss white, curved plating. With light blue, sunshade shaped optics, and a blue racing stripe and stylised 'four' on his chest plate, Jazz had a permanent air of what Spike Witwicky had described as 'coolness'. The saboteur and master spy was one of the most capable Autobots that Optimus Prime knew, not to mention one of his closest friends.

"What's up, Prime," Jazz asked, his usual laid-back tones betraying only the tiniest hint of concern. The shorter mech stopped just a few feet behind his commander-in-chief, looking up at him as he awaited a reply. After a few sparkbeats, Prime turned to face him.

"I have a job for you, Jazz," Prime said, taking a step forward. "One of the utmost importance. According to Teletran One, a group within the United States government has made a discovery that could push their technology ahead by three hundred years, maybe more. They found a device, of alien origin, buried in South America."

"Wow," Jazz managed, completely taken aback. "I thought we were the only race to have made contact with the humans."

"We are, to the best of my knowledge," Prime answered noncommittally. "But this artefact has been buried on Earth for some time. It could have fallen from the Ark as we crash landed, but... well, I think you should see this."

Prime turned back to the control console of Teletran One, and punched in a quick series of commands. The streaming news feeds flickered away, replaced by a slowly rotating, wire-frame image. The image consisted of a thin, elliptical frame, surrounding a roughly spherical core. Jazz optics widened in shock, as he instantly recognised the object for what it was. But it couldn't be, it just simply couldn't be...

"I know how you feel," Prime said, his voice low. Jazz's face had said everything he could ever say out loud. Prime smiled at his old friend, before continuing. "This shouldn't be possible, but it is happening. So far as I know, however, before we crashed on Earth no other transformers had set foot here, and none of our kind came looking for us here while we were dormant."

"But... But that's the Matrix... Isn't it?" Jazz stuttered, obvious awe colouring his voice.

"It looks like one of them, yes," Prime replied, without meeting Jazz's optics.

"What do you mean by 'one of them'?" Jazz asked, regaining a measure of his composure. Seeing the Matrix, an object that nearly every transformer recognised instantly, that many viewed as a kind of holy object, had stunned him. Prime's comment raised several questions for Jazz, the first of which he had just asked. Prime waited a moment, carefully gauging his response.

"I mean precisely that," Prime began, deciding on the straightforward route. He pulled up two chairs from beneath the console, taking one and motioning that Jazz should take the other. "There are at least two Matrices. One, at least, you will know of. The Matrix of Leadership, also known as the Matrix of Life. All transformers know of that device. The image you see on the screen is an almost exact likeness of that artefact, but I can assure you that it isn't. The Matrix of Life has been passed down from Autobot leader to Autobot leader for generations. One day, I will pass it on to the one who will replace me. But until then..."

Prime reached up to his chest plate with both hands, his blue-black plated fingers easily finding the hidden catches that would open up the cover to his chest cavity. He gave a sharp tug, and the two halves of his chest swung open. Inside, a series of mechanisms began to remove, bringing the all-too-familiar shape of the Matrix into view. Prime heard Jazz's reverential gasp, and smiled gently. After a moment, he closed his chest once more, feeling the strengthening warmth of the Matrix as it nestled against his spark. Jazz simply stared at his old friend, unsure of what to say; he had just looked upon the very source of his life, and the sight had left him dumbstruck.

"What you are about to hear," Prime continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "must stay between us. There is at least one other Matrix. The second, known as the Matrix of Combination, has been kept in a hidden location, known only to the High Cybertronian Council, for millennia."

"Hidden?" Jazz asked. "Why?"

"Because of a prophecy, said to have been written at the very founding of our race. It is said that one of the first transformers, upon seeing the glory of the collected Matrices, was imbued with a small measure of their power, and was granted a vision of the distant future. The name of the prophet has since been lost to antiquity, but the near-religious following that sprang up in his wake has survived to this day, and as such, so has the following text:

_Our race shall be sundered,_

_Our world's wealth plundered,_

_And Cybertron undone._

_'Til Matrices combine,_

_And powers align,_

_In unity, 'til All are One._

That passage is part of a much larger piece known as the 'Tear-drops of Primus'. How much of it is to be believed, well, that's not for me to say. But since then, the Matrices have been revered as these 'tear-drops'. If this is indeed one of them, a third Matrix, then we need to find it, and make sure the Decepticons don't get hold of it. If they do, then they will have access to a power that may make them unstoppable."

"And this is the mission that you wanted me for?" Jazz asked, confusion crossing his features. "Just me? Shouldn't we all be going? I mean, this is important, Prime. Real important. I'll do my best, you know that, but if the 'Cep's show up, I'm not gonna be able to stop them on my own..."

"I picked you, Jazz, because of your attention to detail," Prime said calmly, smiling reassuringly. "If this artefact is a fake, then I trust no-one more to find out. And to answer your questions, Megatron has been keeping an eye on our movements. If he sees a large convoy leaving for New York, with me at the head..."

"Then we'll lead him straight to it," finished Jazz, the pieces falling into place.

"Precisely," Prime said. "Besides, you won't be going alone. I'm sending the twins with you. You'll need the muscle."

"Those two?" Jazz asked, as his hopes for success hitched up their skirts and ran for the hills. "You think they can be trusted not to louse this up?"

"They'll do as they are told," Prime said, sounding a little too convinced, making the gesture sound forced. Jazz nodded, then rose and headed for the exit. As Jazz left the control room, Prime muttered to himself "They had better do, for all our sakes."

O o O o O

"Shut the slag up, 'Swipe!"

"But you do, I swear..."

"Swear? I'll give you _swear_, you little frakker..."

Jazz had been told that the twins were in the med-bay. What he hadn't been told was that he would be able to hear them two corridors away. The brothers had been trying out their new transformations, and there had been an accident of some variety. As the noise they were causing resolved itself into words, Jazz heaved a deep sigh. This was going to be hell, and he knew it.

He rounded a corner, entering the med-bay proper, and was greeted by the one sight he had been dreading. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stood at opposite sides of the main bay, Ratchet standing between them with a panic-stricken expression on his face. The red and yellow mechs were glaring at each other over the chief medical officer's head, fists raised. Sideswipe wore an expression of mildly sardonic humour, the polar opposite of his twin's look of unbridled aggression. Whilst Jazz was in no doubt that the pair loved each other, that either would kill or die for the other, he also knew that the pair spent more time at loggerheads than not. Jazz was acutely aware of being glad that he was an only child.

The twins had been amongst the first Autobots to take on a new breed of alternate forms. These 'Alternator' transformations were of a higher level of detail, in that they were virtually indistinguishable from the real Earth vehicles of which they were copies. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had taken on identical sports car forms, both Dodge Vipers. The only difference between them, other than their colour and facial features, was that Sideswipe had a convertible roof in vehicle form. Personality-wise, however, the pair could be very different from one another.

"What in Primus' name is going on here?" Jazz demanded. The twins jumped slightly at his entrance, backing down slightly from one another. When no-one answered, Jazz asked again.

"There was an accident," Sunstreaker growled. "We were testing the new forms, getting a good run so that Ratchet and Wheeljack could find any bugs and fine tune them out. Some jerk had left a tree blocking the mountain path, and I ran into it." The large warrior squared his shoulders, as though daring Jazz to make something more of it.

"And screamed like a girl-bot," grinned Sideswipe, half a second later.

"I. Did. NOT," Sunny roared, hurling the contents of a medical tray at his younger twin's head. 'Swipe ducked easily, laughing to himself.

"Missed me," he jeered.

"Will you two cut it out!" Jazz demanded, as Sunny began trying to swing for his brother over Ratchet's head. "I've got orders from Optimus Prime. You may or may not have heard, but we're heading out on a mission, as soon as you two are fit to travel."

The twins visibly relaxed their stances, both mechs raising their brows in identical questioning expressions.

"Where to?" they chimed in unison.

"The Holt Institute, in New York," Jazz replied. The twins gave each other knowing glances, then grinned mischievously.

"Road trip!" they yelled, knowing full well that it would grate on Jazz.

"Now guys, this 'aint no sight-seeing expedition," Jazz began. "This is an important mission..."

"But its the Big Apple!" gasped Sideswipe in mock awe.

"The big city lights!" added Sunstreaker, matching his brother's tone, only with marginally more sarcasm.

"Central Park!"

"The Empire State building!"

"King Kong!"

"ROAD TRIP!" the pair finished in unison.

"Aww, c'mon guys, give me a break..." Jazz cut in. The twins' maniacal grins were the only answer. After a moment, Jazz gave in, shrugging and turning for the exit. He called over his shoulder as he left, "Just let me know when you're finished here, okay? I'll meet you out front." And then he was gone. Sunstreaker waited for him to round the corner, before turning to his brother with a quizzical expression.

"King Kong?" he asked.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Sideswipe shrugged. "Too much, ya think?"

"Maybe...", Sunny muttered, before changing his mind and muttering "Nah!" to himself. "Now, where were we?"

"Ummm... Girl-bot?"

"So we were. Now COME HERE!!"

O o O o O

Two hours later, Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe left the Ark. Prime watched them leave, standing outside the Ark, shielding his optics from the glare of the human sun. He watched until the dust trails kicked up by the sports cars had faded over the horizon, and then he simply stood, deep in thought. As the sun set, its light reflected from his polished armour, turning it from a deep red to the colour of molten gold, and shone from the glass sections of his chest plate. He looked every inch the noble warrior given form.

Inside, he felt far different. He was worried about this mission, and not because he didn't trust the abilities of his colleagues. He just felt, deep down, that he should have been the one to lead the mission. If this artefact was indeed a Matrix, then he should be the one to bring it home. But these thoughts were not the main reason for his disquiet. At the end of the day, he had never liked being forced to lie to his men...

He had had no choice, but that did nothing to lift the burden he felt. It was ancient law, far older than himself, and he could do nothing about it. He hadn't been able to warn Jazz that if the prophecy was true in its entirety, that this artefact was in fact the Decepticon Matrix of Power, then the universe at large was in grave danger. The thought of sending one of his closest friends into that kind of situation made Prime feel sick to the pit of his fuel pump. He looked down at the Autobot insignia emblazoned upon his arm, and for the first time in his life felt a pang of revulsion.

For now, Optimus Prime would have to hope that the translation of the prophecy was wrong or incomplete.

For now, he would just have to have faith...

* * *

For Karen.

Authors Notes: Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak and their associates.

The title, Primus Inter Pares, loosely translates as 'First Amongst Equals'. Figured that as the series title is Renaissance, then it would fit to have Latin titles. Probably not one of my brightest ideas, but there we go.

If anyone has any thoughts or suggestions for opening quotes for chapters two and three, please let me know. Also, please read and review, it always means a great deal. Hope you enjoyed, more coming soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Primus Inter Pares

Chapter 2

"_Betrayal is perhaps the bitterest poison of all..." _-Anon.

_Decepticon warship "Nemesis", z-minus fifteen days_

The corridors of _Nemesis_ echoed with heavy footfalls, a sound full of brooding menace. The sound was both deadened and amplified by the crushing weight of the ocean around the vast battleship, throwing it out into the empty corridors at odd angles, lending the reverberating sound a ghostly quality. It sounded like the heartbeat of some vast god. The thought brought a thin smile to the features of the sounds originator.

Groups of Decepticons parted before him, falling silent, their conversations or arguments left unattended as their leader passed by. Megatron's white and chrome armoured form was imposing, true, but even more so was his reputation, which preceded him like a bow wave. It inspired awe, fear, or loathing in all he passed, or at least a mixture of the three. None dared oppose him, all too fearful of the instant and lethal reprisal that awaited those foolish enough to try.

Megatron strode toward the entrance of his throne room, angry thoughts filling him with dark purpose. The whelp, Starscream, had summoned him here, claiming to have uncovered a traitor in the ranks of his warriors. Megatron's optics flashed red at the thought; traitors could not, would not, be tolerated. Charging his particle cannon, Megatron threw wide the doors of the throne chamber, and stalked over the threshold. Justice would be meted out this day.

Megatron was some five paces inside the room by the time he realised that it was empty. Five more paces, and he prepared to call for Starscream and berate him for calling him here for nothing. A pace later, and the deck began to shake. Megatron turned sharply, ready for action, but was caught completely unaware by the gargantuan form of Devastator. The enormous gestalt mech kicked out at Megatron with surprising speed, catching the much smaller warrior full in the chest. So here was the traitor!

White sparks flashed in Megatron's vision as the shattering impact connected, and he was aware of powerless flight for the first time in an age. As he was thrown across the throne room, Megatron snapped off a series of shots in the direction of his attacker, before crashing into the deck plating. By some miracle, two of the shots were on target, one glancing from his attacker's left shoulder, the other impacting squarely on his green and purple chest plate.

The shots were nowhere near powerful enough to do Devastator any serious harm, but they gave Megatron a moment's reprieve, and that was all he needed. From his prostrate position, Megatron kicked both of his legs into the air, flipping himself up and into a combat-ready crouch. He glared up at the massive traitor; he had always known that the Constructicons were untrustworthy, but this was a new development. He called up to their combined form, hoping to assert a little control over his predicament.

"What is the meaning of this?" Megatron demanded, whilst priming his cannon for another series of shots. "You dare to attack me? Insolent fools! You will pay for this, Constructicons, and you will pay dearly."

"Silence!" bellowed the vast mech in reply. "Devastator is superior, Megatron inferior! You will be replaced! Prepare for extermination!" Devastator began to stride toward Megatron, reaching down with one massive gauntlet to grab his former leader. Megatron had no intention of giving him the chance.

The silver-white mech reacted with lightning speed, bringing his cannon up and unleashing a hail of shots at Devastator's head. As the torrent of cohesive energy bolts flew straight at his optics, Devastator was forced to stop his attack, bringing up his arms to shield his face. Megatron reacted immediately, using the opportunity to get to a new vantage point. He threw himself to his left, diving into a roll and bringing himself back up into a firing position with fluid grace.

As Devastator opened his optics again, he was briefly aware that his target was no longer there, before a series of tightly packed shots slammed into his right side. Most of them merely impacted upon his armoured flank, doing only minimal damage. One, however, made contact with a little known power relay just beneath his arm, and hit with enough force to bring about the one thing that the Constructicons had hoped to avoid: forced separation. Combined, Megatron stood no chance against them. In their separate forms, however, he would literally take them apart. And from the expression of raw, vindictive rage that the six traitors saw upon his features as they separated, Megatron was planning on doing just that.

But he never got the chance. Before Megatron could fire a single shot, a barrage of shells blasted into his back, sending him sprawling forward. He turned as he landed, and gained a glimpse of Swindle stepping from the shadows of one of the alcoves that lined the throne room. A second set of shots slammed into him from two different directions, as Vortex and Blastoff stepped from their own hiding places. In moments, all five of the Combaticon team were in the room. Seeing just how badly outnumbered he was, Megatron felt the seed of panic begin to take root.

His mind reeling, Megatron frantically searched for a way out. In the throne room, there was enough room to fit several giant-class mechs like Bruticus and Devastator. Against one of them, he stood a slim chance, as he knew and could exploit their weak points. But together... he needed to get them into the confined corridors of the main ship. There, the traitors couldn't combine, and they would be no match for him. Or for his loyal warriors.

Megatron broke into a run, throwing shots at Brawl and Scavenger, who had moved to block his exit. Brawl moved out of the way surprisingly fast considering his bulky form, but Scavenger was not so fortunate. A bolt of energy tore through his shoulder, spinning him on the spot, spraying splinters of bright green armour and a mist of coolant fluid as he fell. Megatron didn't break his stride, ignoring the scattered shots that flew around him in his flight. He ate up the distance to the throne room entrance, each step taking him closer to freedom; twenty metres, fifteen, ten. Megatron surged forward, hoping to throw the doors open with his momentum and escape.

The doors opened before he ever got there. As the doors swung toward him, Megatron scrambled to a halt, preparing to demand aid from the newcomer. The cry died on his lips, however, as he saw who was entering. Starscream stood in the threshold, a sardonic smile gracing his features. He was flanked by his younger brothers, Skywarp and Thundercracker, who had been the ones to open the twin doors. The younger Seekers glared balefully at Megatron, their intentions clear. This was all Starscream's doing.

"What's wrong, mighty Megatron?" the grey and red mech crooned, his voice deliberately light. To either side of him, his brothers spread out, surrounding Megatron. "Is there some kind of trouble? Some dissension in the ranks?"

"What is the meaning of this, Starscream?" Megatron hissed.

"I think you know, oh wise and powerful leader," Starscream simpered. His comment obviously struck a note of humour with Skywarp, who broke into an evil grin. Thundercracker simply glared at his former master, his optics full of hatred. Starscream continued. "We are taking over. Or, rather, I am taking over. Your rule over the Decepticons has gone on for far too long. It's time for a new regime, Megatron. Out with the old, in with the new."

"So it's treason, then," Megatron said, his voice low and menacing, then rising to a roar. "You will pay for this, traitor. I will tear you apart, limb from limb. I will flay your hide, tear out your circuits and crush them, one by one. I will..."

"Save your threats, Megatron!" Starscream snapped, cutting off his former commander's tirade. "You have no more power here." He looked up and past Megatron's head, and nodded once. An instant later, and Bruticus's black-armoured paw slammed Megatron into the decking, pinning him in place. Megatron had been so intent on Starscream, that he hadn't heard Onslaught even give the command to combine. Starscream knelt next to him, intimately whispering into his audio pick-up.

"You know, Megatron," he said, "I have waited for this for a very long time. For _centuries_, I have watched your failures, put up with your blame and your insults, and waited for this day. Of course, I had to make certain promises, but in the end, every last one of your loyal lapdogs has fallen in line with my plan."

"Liar!" Megatron hissed, attempting to struggle free of the giant's grip, to no effect.

"Really, mighty Megatron," Starscream said, standing and walking away from his former leader. He spread his arms wide, a sweeping gesture designed to take in the whole throne room, which Megatron noticed was slowly filling with Decepticons. "Do you honestly believe, for even an instant, that I would be _stupid _enough to attempt this without support, without an army behind me to weed out those who might still support you. True, I have attempted to take over before, and failed every time. Now, I can't fail. Your time is done, Megatron, over and finished. You've lost your last fight."

"I will find a way, Starscream," Megatron hissed. "I will have my revenge for this insolence!" Starscream knelt next to his prone form once more, whispering to Megatron, uncontrolled malice bleeding from every word.

"I quiver with fear," he said. "As I said, you have no more power here. This is my time now. And you will suffer for all you have done..."

O o O o O

_Z-minus fourteen days_

Jazz loved the open road, there was no denying it. For him, it was his natural habitat, hard-wired into his very being at a molecular level. On a day like this, with cloudless blue skies as far as his optics could see, and no artificial structure for miles, Jazz truly appreciated the beauty of this planet Earth. Deciding that a little music was in order, Jazz mentally accessed his radio system, rapidly scanning the local stations for something decent to listen to. After a few minutes of searching, he settled for a Bruce Springsteen number, turned up the volume, and began to accelerate slightly. Cruising at seventy-five miles per hour, he hoped to be at the Holt Institute in just under four hours. Until then, Jazz intended to enjoy the ride.

Some three miles ahead, the scenery was less than peaceful. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe thundered down the highway, windows open and stereos blaring. They kept at least twenty metres apart, in part to not draw too much attention to themselves, but mostly because they had just had an argument, and Sunstreaker didn't want to talk. Both were playing their choice of music as loud as possible, as though continuing the argument through sheer volume.

In front, Sunstreaker was in a bad mood, and it showed. He had rolled his windows down, and had turned his CD player up to the point where the vibrations were starting to hurt. He had been playing _Break Stuff _by Limp Bizkit repeatedly for nearly twenty minutes, just letting the noise wash over him, even humming along at points in an effort to calm himself. His twin would say it was an odd choice of music for relaxation. _But then_, Sunny thought, _what would he know?_

Sideswipe watched his brother, feeling a small degree of guilt without quite knowing why. He had only intended for his comment to yank Sunny's chain a little; he hadn't intended for Sunny to fly into a rage like he had. Part of Sideswipe just felt like letting Sunny get on with his sulking, taking a different route to their destination and trying to reconcile with his brother later. The rest of him, the part that had turned up his Linkin Park album until the volume matched his brother, wanted to pull over and hash things out now. He loved his brother, but there were days he hated him in equal measure.

Sunstreaker watched as his brother fell further behind, then pulled over and stopped altogether. For a moment, Sunny considered leaving him there, but thought better of it. As he stopped, then began reversing toward his twin, he saw Sideswipe begin to transform, and followed suit. As he walked the last few yards to his brother's side, shielding his optics from the late afternoon sun, Sunny saw an expression of deep pain etching his features, and decided to take a slightly gentler approach.

"Wassup," Sunny asked, a little gruffer than he had meant to. If his brother was hurt, then he wanted to help if he could. "You got a flat tyre or somethin'?"

"You can be such a pain in the aft, you know that?" Sideswipe said in a wounded tone. Sunstreaker tensed, instantly expecting his brother to start a fight. "Why do you have to be like that? Slaggin' around I can take, but ripping my head off like that for no good reason..." For Sunny, it all came flooding back.

"No good reason, huh?" he snapped. "You said I looked like Bumblebee! If you think for a second that I'm gonna take that..."

"You need your audio pick-up checked, bro," Swipe cut in. "I said that your new paint job looked _a bit _like Bumblebee's. And if you had let me finish, instead of screaming merry Pit at me, you'd have misheard me say that with the new form, it really suits you. I was paying you a compliment, Sunny, and you ripped my head off."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Sunny tried, a little stunned, but was cut off again.

"You do this all the time!" Swipe snapped, his voice rising quickly to a yell. "I'll admit, some of it's my fault, I know I annoy you sometimes, but you have got to stop over-reacting to every damned little thing. Have you got any idea how much it hurts when you do that? We share a spark, for Primus' sake. It really tears me up. Just once, try being my brother for three days straight, instead of having an 'arrogant warrior' moment, okay?" Sideswipe slumped as he finished, his tirade leaving him feeling drained. He looked wearily into Sunstreaker's blue optics, trying to read his brother's expression and failing. When he spoke again, Swipe's voice was nearly a whisper.

"You can rag on me for this if you want, hit me if it'll make you feel better, I don't care any more, Sunny. You're my brother, and I love you. I just wish we could stop fighting like this. Even if only for a little while." Sideswipe moved to his left, and began to walk past Sunstreaker, hoping that Sunny wouldn't start on him. He stepped forward, but before he could get past his brother, Sunny lifted his right arm and gently placed the palm of his black gauntlet against Sideswipe's chest plate.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, turning his head slightly toward his brother. "I don't know why I am the way I am. But I'm sorry I hurt you, okay?" Sunstreaker moved his hand up, until it rested against Swipe's left cheek-plate.

"I'll try to change, alright?" he said, meeting his younger sibling's gaze. For a moment, Sideswipe saw the mech that he had grown up with, the fun loving 'bot that had been. He smiled, and nodded to Sunny, who let go of Sideswipe for a moment, turning to face the same way as his twin and snaking his left arm around the red mech's shoulders. He pulled Swipe toward him for a brief instant, then let go altogether and started walking toward the road.

"Come on, we'd better get moving," he called back to Sideswipe. He then gave his twin a sly grin, and asked "So, you really think the new form looks okay?"

"Yep," Sideswipe answered.

"Aww, that's sweet," Sunstreaker said sarcastically, before rolling his head onto it's left side and doing his best to look cute, and saying "You think I look pretty!" Before Sideswipe could throw back a retort, Sunny had transformed and was gone.

"Good to have you back, bro," he whispered after a second, then transformed himself and followed Sunstreaker.

O o O o O

High above the twins, a small, bird-like silhouette passed briefly in front of the sun. Buzzsaw had been out on a routine patrol, searching for a viable energon source that the Decepticons could raid, when he had spotted the twins. Immediately, the spy cassette had gained altitude, hoping not to be spotted by the arguing Autobots. As the red and yellow mechs resumed their vehicle forms, Buzzsaw shifted position slightly, deliberately keeping himself between the Autobots and the sun, hiding in the star's glare.

It was unusual to see the Autobots so far from their base in so few numbers. His interest piqued, Buzzsaw decided to follow the pair of sports cars and find out what they were doing. As he began to move after them, Buzzsaw noticed another sports car heading in the same direction. This one was white with a blue racing stripe; the one they called Jazz. So there _were _more of them. The spacing of the enemy vehicles could only mean that they were trying to avoid detection. The question was, why? Determined to find out, Buzzsaw picked up speed and began following the three Autobots.

* * *

Authors notes: Transformers and all related characters are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc. and their affiliates. Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit and of course Bruce Springsteen, are also not owned by me (it'd be scary if they were, though!)

Thanks for reading this far, hope you enjoyed. Please read and review, there's a cookie in it for you if you do!


	3. Chapter 3

Primus Inter Pares

Chapter 3

"_Hell hath no fury..."- Anyone who has ever been wronged_

_Holt Institute, New York, USA, z- fourteen days_

The security guards at the Holt Institute were not used to excitement. Very little happened at the Institute that required their direct intervention. For the few younger guards, the near endless status quo was the bane of their lives, and they longed for any kind of excitement to break up the monotony. For the majority, however, many of whom were retired police veterans, the peace and quiet was very welcome indeed.

It was with mixed emotion, then, that the Autobots were greeted when they arrived at the institute. When they first arrived, the sight of three driver less sports cars quickly raised an alarm. In less than a minute, a group of guards were making their way down the slate grey steps from the building to the forecourt. With the modern trend for car bombs, the human's thoughts had immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

When Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe transformed, outright panic ensued. Several of the younger guards drew their guns with shaking hands, whilst yet more simply staggered backward or cried out in alarm. Jazz quickly gave the twins a knowing glance, sensing that any sudden moves could start a conflict, one that would not go well for the humans. Slowly, Jazz raised his hands in a placating gesture, waving his black gauntlets up and down in the kind of gesture used to quiet panicked animals or children.

"Hey now, guys", he drawled softly, "there's no need to be hostile. We're on your side."

"Yeah", joined in Sideswipe, moving out to Jazz' left. "We come in peace."

"We 'aint gonna hurt ya", Sunstreaker continued tersely, mirroring his twin's movements. "Now put down the damn guns, before someone does something stupid."

For a moment, neither side moved. The security guards were not convinced by the giant robots attempts at being friendly; most of them had only ever heard the term 'Transformer' in relation to electrical equipment, and the strange sight of the large mechs had driven away any sense of calm or control. In turn, Jazz could feel the slight static build-up as the twins began preparing to pull their own weapons out of subspace. If he didn't get control of the situation soon, both sides would open fire, and the humans would lose.

"Gentlemen, stand down!"

The order came from the direction of the steps. Jazz looked up and saw a man in a short sleeved khaki shirt and faded blue jeans running toward them. Despite his casual appearance, the newcomer seemed to exert a quiet control over the situation. The security guards lowered their guns as he approached, and at his signal holstered their weapons completely. The man stopped just in front of Jazz, and looked up at the mechs.

"You'll have to excuse the actions of my colleagues", he began, smiling warmly. "Since we found your artefact, security has been on high alert. Especially since we heard about these 'Decepticons' of yours. The name's Lucas Holt. And the Autobots will always be welcome here."

O o O o O

_Decepticon warship "Nemesis"_

Megatron paced along the width of his holding cell like a wild animal, glaring with unchecked hatred at the two Decepticons guarding him. Every few seconds, the security field that protected the entrance to the cell pulsed, arcs of bluish energon sparking into brief, violent life, and tinting Megatron's armour with ghostly light. On the far side of the brig, Swindle and Blastoff watched him with something between mild amusement and cold derision. They had taunted Megatron at first, but had quickly grown bored and simply contented themselves to seeing out their shifts. Now they stood in near silence, only whispering to each other occasionally.

The doors to the guards left slid silently open, revealing the form of Megatron's former second in command, Soundwave. The tall mech entered the room slowly, carefully moving his gaze from the prisoner, to the guards, and back again. After a few moments, he approached the two Combaticons and handed Blastoff a data pad. Megatron couldn't hear precisely what was said, but could make out harsh, aggressive tones. A few more moments, and several sharp gestures later, and the two guards left for the exit, casting suspicious looks at both Soundwave and Megatron as they did so. Soundwave waited for the pair to leave, then approached the cell.

"Traitor", Megatron hissed at his former friend, whilst continuing his pacing. "Come to gloat, have you? And to think I called you 'friend'."

Soundwave stared impassively at Megatron, his optics and faceplate betraying no emotion. He simply watched the former commander pacing back and forth, studying him like a specimen in a jar. Infuriated, Megatron stopped his pacing and walked up to the cell entrance, coming face to face with the dark blue mech.

"Well?", he asked. "Are you going to at least tell me why you are here?" Soundwave shook his head silently, signalling in the negative. He stepped away from the cell, and tapped a control on his chest plate. The plate swung open, and a gloss black audio cassette ejected, quickly unfolding into the sabotage mech, Ravage. The panther-mech landed softly, circled once and looked up at its master.

"Ravage", Soundwave stated, his harmonious yet emotionless tones echoing around the small room. "Exit room and stand sentry. Deny all access." He waited for Ravage to leave, then turned back to face Megatron.

"I apologise for the silence", he said. It took a few seconds for Megatron to realise that Soundwave hadn't actually _said _anything. Not out loud, anyway. Before he could respond, Soundwave continued. "It took me a short while to create a telepathic bridge that you would be able to hear. We need to talk."

"About what?", Megatron snarled. "As I see it, we have nothing to discuss. Get out of my head!"

"Silence is necessary", came Soundwave's thought-speak again. "We are being watched. Starscream has this room under constant surveillance, so I cannot risk open conversation. But I needed to get a message to you."

"Okay", Megatron thought to himself as clearly as possible, playing along for the moment, intrigued as to what Soundwave had planned. "What message?"

"You are not alone, Megatron. You still have supporters here. We are working on a plan to free you. But we need you to trust us."

"Why should I trust you? How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?"

"Listen to my voice, old friend. You can hear the truth of the matter."

And he was right. It dawned on Megatron that the voice in his head was different from the one Soundwave normally used. Instead of his dead-pan, monotone utterances, Soundwave was talking normally. So far as Megatron knew, he was the only one that the telepath ever talked to in that fashion; the only one that he trusted to see the true Soundwave. Put simply, he was telling the truth.

O o O o O

_Holt Institute, New York_

Jazz and the twins followed Professor Holt down a long, well lit corridor beneath the Institute, heading for one of the secure holding vaults. The dark granite floors and polished steel walls echoed with the footsteps of the three giant mechs, a deafening clamour that meant that the professor had to shout to be heard. He had given the Transformers a brief tour, telling them about the history of the Institute. The Holt Institute for Advanced Sciences, founded by Lucas' late grandfather, had been set up as one part science lab, one part museum. The idea had been to base new technologies on the designs of lost civilisations; Lucas had confided in the Autobots that his grandfather had started out with the goal of finding the legendary city of Atlantis, a dream that had sadly died with the old man. Only now, it seemed, Lucas had found something far more amazing...

"Gentlemen, we're here", Lucas finally announced, as the group came to a halt in front of a massive set of titanium doors. He allowed the computer next to the doors to scan his retina, checking his identity, and continued talking as he did so. "We stored the, er, _device_, here, in our deepest vault, for two reasons. Firstly, we wanted to keep its existence a secret. Secondly, something about it was messing with the buildings electrical systems."

The large doors, a full six feet taller even than Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, ground slowly open, revealing a dark room beyond. As the doors reached the halfway point of their transit, the lights in the corridor began to flicker, buzzing loudly before sparking and going out altogether. A pale green light shone dimly in the darkness, giving away the location of the vault's sole occupant. A moment later, Jazz activated the headlamps built into his chest, bathing the room with cold, white light. There, resting on a plain metal podium, sat the Matrix. Or it's twin, at the very least.

The atmosphere was electrical. Jazz could hardly believe it; he was standing in a room with an exact copy of the most revered artefact possessed by the Autobots. All at once, he both understood Prime's decision to send just him and the twins, yet at the same time felt that only Optimus Prime should be the one to collect it. Here, in the presence of the ornate device, he felt both humbled and awed. A collective deep breath from behind him told Jazz that the twins felt the same way.

O o O o O

_Decepticon warship "Nemesis", z- thirteen days_

"Starscream! This is an outrage!"

Starscream looked up from a discussion with Onslaught, the Combaticon leader, and saw Blitzwing storming toward him, his features etched in fury. The triple changer was flanked by Astrotrain and Crankcase, a recent addition to the ranks from Cybertron. The trio marched down the length of the throne chamber toward where Starscream sat, on a dais at the far end of the room. Starscream ushered Onslaught back slightly with a wave of his hand, and settled himself back into his newly constructed throne. He smiled to himself, revelling in the power he now held.

"What seems to be the problem?", he simpered, knowing full well as to why Blitzwing was so angry. He just wanted to watch the arrogant mech fume for a while.

"The problem, Starscream", Blitzwing roared, "is that you have not fulfilled your promises. It has been two days, and the reinforcements you promised haven't arrived, the energon you promised hasn't materialized, and you still have yet unveil your plans to defeat the Autobots. And now, we find out that you have actually _lowered _our energon rations!"

"And?" Starscream hissed, dropping his friendly façade. "When you backed me in this little coup, I made it _very _clear that these things would take time. But I get the distinct impression, gentlemen, that these aren't the real problems. Your promotions are."

"You're right", Astrotrain growled. "You promised us new positions, new ranks. But you haven't even included us in your plans. Instead, we've been shut out."

"First we try, then we trust", Starscream replied simply. "You haven't been very trustworthy in the past, so you'll forgive me for not inviting you into my inner circle just yet. Get used to it."

"Get used to this!" Crankcase snapped. Without warning, the grey and dark-blue mech's shoulders whirred into life, pulling a twin pair of blaster cannons from his back and into firing positions either side of his head. He clenched his fists, still by his sides, as if bracing himself to fire. To his left, the two triple changers pulled their own weapons from subspace, aiming them at the Seeker commander. "As of now, we're taking over. We're more powerful than you will ever be, Starscream. You were useful, for a time, but it's our turn now. You have served your purpose."

"I have served my purpose?", Starscream snarled, rising from his throne, his optics flashing dangerously. "You _dare_ to threaten me? Imbeciles! You know nothing of my power."

In Blitzwing's mind, it was all going so well. He had his blaster trained on Starscream's head, ready to pull the trigger. He had even figured out his parting words to the Seeker as he watched the life draining from his optics. But he never got to do it, or say what he wanted to say. As his finger tightened on the weapon's firing stud, he caught a flash of purple energy off to his right, and the world went sideways. The impact threw his shot wide, sending the blast crashing into the wall behind Starscream, showering the red and grey jet with dust and debris. The next thing he knew, he had been thrown to the floor behind Astrotrain.

From Astrotrain's point of view, one second Blitzwing had been about to finish Starscream with a head shot, the next, his fellow triple changer had been thrown to the floor. Astrotrain span just in time to see Skywarp, in all his black and purple glory, launching himself into the air to perform a jumping kick. The strange thing was that the kick would not connect with anyone. Just as the obvious question of 'why' began to form itself in Astrotrain's mind, there was a shuddering _crack_, and Skywarp disappeared. Half a second, and another _crack_ later, and the kick connected with the back of his head, sending Astrotrain sprawling across the floor.

Crankcase tried to draw a bead on Skywarp, firing as the young Seeker sent Astrotrain crashing to the ground. The shot missed, scorching the space where Skywarp had been instants before. The gunner cursed under his breath, and turned back to face Starscream, who hadn't moved from his position on the dais. He was not alone, however. On one side stood Onslaught, on the other stood Skywarp. Standing in front of the dais was Thundercracker. The light blue mech was glaring menacingly at Crankcase, crackling swirls of energy dancing around his gauntlets.

"Back down", Crankcase said. "My fight is with Starscream, not with any of you. Leave now, and you won't get hurt."

"If your fight is with our brother", Thundercracker countered, "then your fight is with us." With that, he clapped his hands together, sending a screaming wall of cohesive sonic energy crashing into Crankcase, sending the mech crashing onto his back, unconscious. Thundercracker smiled to himself; his own and his brothers' unique abilities made them difficult to best as individuals, but on the few occasions that they worked together they became nearly unstoppable.

Starscream stalked down the three steps from the dais, his trademark grin barely gracing his features, and began walking toward Blitzwing, who was beginning to stir. Starscream motioned to Thundercracker, who moved to a position behind the bone-white mech, grabbing the triple changer's head with his left hand and pulling it back viciously. He placed the blaster on his right arm almost tenderly against Blitzwing's throat, and whispered something to him that made his optics widen with fear. Starscream stopped a few feet away, looking down at Blitzwing with a disapproving expression.

"This is precisely why I have kept you at arms length, Blitzwing", Starscream said, his voice low. "You can't be trusted. Not that they can be trusted, per-se." Starscream motioned to the Combaticons, who were filing into the room. "But here's the thing; _they _know how to keep a bargain. _They _have the patience to back someone who has the drive to achieve, because _they _understand that sometimes it is important to let someone else get what _they_ want, to do the hard work, to bleed for it. To take them to the power they crave, without the problems of having to lead. It doesn't make them trustworthy, but it does make them useful."

"Now, here is what you're going to do", he continued, kneeling down next to Blitzwing. "You are going to think very carefully about what I say next. I have received some very interesting information, information that can take me, and the Decepticons with me, to ultimate power. Are you going to blow that chance by attempting another botched coup, or are you going to play along and have the brains to use this opportunity? Your choice."

Starscream stood slowly, stepping backward a few paces. At the same time, Thundercracker released Blitzwing, mirroring his brother's movements whilst keeping his blaster trained on the traitor's back. Blitzwing let out a gasp, before nodding slowly. "All right", he whispered. "You win. This time."

"Good", Starscream said simply. "Now get out. I have things to do." He turned his back on his would-be attacker, and walked slowly back to the dais, twirling a small object between his fingers as he did so, a small black and yellow audio cassette. Starscream approached Onslaught, and handed Laserbeak over to him.

"Find Soundwave, and get him to extract the coordinates we need", Starscream said. "This is it, the key. Our time has finally come."

O o O o O

_Mere Crisium, Lunar Crater_

Megatron strained against the door to the Decepticon lunar outpost, trying to force it open. The station, set up two years previously, had been without power for some time, and the mechanism had seized up from lack of use. He growled slightly, forcing his servos to the limit, pushing with every last ounce of his strength. Finally, after moments that seemed like ages, the door began to slide open, gases from within the airlock escaping into the airless void around the former Decepticon leader.

It took Megatron nearly an hour to find the power generator, the pitch black warren of corridors making his task even harder than it would have been under normal circumstances. It took him another twenty minutes to attach the small portable generator he had brought with him from the emergency shuttle. When he finally got the connections to marry, and the power to transfer, he took some time to review how he had gotten into his current predicament.

Soundwave had arranged it all. He had taken Megatron, in his alternate form, to the shuttle bay. Megatron had to smile at the audacity of his old friend; he had actually placed the white Walther PPK into his chest cavity so the other Decepticons wouldn't see him. Soundwave had used his various creations to full effect, calling on Rumble and Frenzy to take out the guards at the shuttle bay, and sending Ravage to make sure they were not followed. Megatron had left alone, leaving Soundwave to rally those forces that were still loyal to him. A few hours later, the shuttle had reached the Earth's only natural satellite.

As the base began to power up, and the lights slowly came to life, Megatron began to explore the base. The outpost had been set up as a listening post and secondary base of operations, built by the Constructicons in the lunar crater the humans called "Mere Crisium". Compared to the Nemesis, the base was a modest affair, but it would do, Megatron mused. Most importantly, the base communication system was powerful enough that it could reach Cybertron. If Megatron was going to retake control of the Decepticon forces on earth, he would need reinforcements. _Especially_, he thought to himself, _if I'm going to deal with Devastator and Bruticus_.

He knew precisely who he would contact, but whether or not they would help him was a different matter. Megatron had made many enemies over the course of his life, and not all of them were Autobots. Dealing with Starscream and his little insurrection was going to be a mammoth task, one that he could not afford to fail. Breaking from his reverie for a brief moment, Megatron realised that he had found himself in the command chamber. Suddenly tired, he slumped into the control throne, breathed a deep sigh, and allowed his head to fall against the back of the chair with a faint _clank_. He closed his eyes, listening to the eerie silence of the lunar base, broken only by the occasional creak or distant hum of activating machinery.

Sitting there, lord of an empty domain, betrayed by almost everyone around him, Megatron felt completely and utterly alone.

* * *

Authors notes: Transformers, as always, are the property of Hasbro/HasTak Inc., not me. More's the pity. Please read and review, if you can. All thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome! 

Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Primus Inter Pares

Chapter 4

"_Beware when staring unto the Abyss, for the Abyss also stares unto you..."_- Friedrich Nietsche, _Beyond Good and Evil_

_Colorado State Border, z- eleven days_

"Not long now, guys", Jazz called over the comm-link, his voice sounding relieved. "Not long at all. I can't wait to get, well, _the item _back to Prime."

For three days, Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been making careful progress back to the Ark. They had done everything they could to not draw unwanted attention to themselves; the cargo they carried was far too precious to risk losing now. The mysterious third Matrix sat nestled in the trunk of Jazz's Porsche alternate form, partially covered with curved segments of lead plating, in an effort to dampen it's energy signature. That didn't mean, however, that Jazz couldn't feel it there. Far from it, in fact.

It had taken several hours for him to notice the sound, if 'sound' was even the right word for it. At first, it had started as a nagging sensation at the back of his neural processor, like a half forgotten memory. It was fleeting, elusive; every time he came close to working out what it was he was feeling, it changed into something new and he lost the definition. It caressed the recesses of his mind, whispering to him with increasing strength, until finally, as the Autobots crossed the state border, it finally found its voice. And it began to sing.

It was unlike anything Jazz had ever felt. The persistent nagging suddenly broke into a piercing wail, chilling him to his spark and making him wish that he could cover his audio receptors. His whole frame sang with the vibration, and felt as though the sound would shake Jazz's chassis apart. After a few moments, the pitch lessened, and moved into a sweeping set of notes that were all at once dizzying and gentle, emotive and calm. And it was then, as the music calmed to bearable levels, that Jazz came to the realisation that there was no music at all.

There was no identifiable sound, no words or notes, just the perception of them. At first Jazz thought that there was something wrong with him, that the Matrix he held was disrupting his systems. But as he felt the wraith-like plainsong wash over him, felt the emotions it raised within him, he realised that he was hearing something within his spark, something that would only be felt by a rare few. The pride, the power, the elation that it brought, along with the feelings of loss and smallness, were echoes of the Matrix itself; not its thoughts, but rather how his own spark was reacting to the waves of power emanating from the sphere hidden in his trunk.

"Can't wait", Jazz heard Sunstreaker growl. "The sooner this whole thing is over and done with, the better. No offence meant to anyone, but that thing gives me the creeps."

"Here, here!" Sideswipe chimed in, his tones marginally cheerier than his twin's. "I still say we should call for reinforcements. I mean, if we meet them half way, then we can be sure that nothing goes wrong."

"Maybe", Jazz replied. "But we're still too far out. If we call for help now, and the 'Cons pick up on it before our guys, we'll be dead in the water."

"Doesn't matter much anyway", came a surly counterpoint from Sunstreaker. "We'll be hitting that communications black spot soon, so either we call home and take the risk, or we keep going and end up much closer to home anyway."

The point all but covered, the three sports cars accelerated slightly, eager to get home. The communication cut-out was caused by mineral deposits lining a shallow valley that the road followed. Communication wasn't completely impossible, but the frequency gain needed by their comm-systems to punch through the interference would advertise their position like a planet wide flare. At this stage of the journey, that was the last thing the trio needed.

As the Autobots entered the valley, Jazz felt a brief surge in the song of the Matrix. Over the past hour or so, the waves scratching at his mind had lessened, almost to the point where Jazz was no longer aware of them. But suddenly, without warning, the wraithsong came back with a vengeance, not only on a telepathic level but also on an audible frequency. A high pitched scream rent the air, surprising the twins and making Jazz swerve painfully, nearly forcing him from the road. It only lasted a few seconds, but the effect it had was electric. Birds flew startled from the trees that lined the road, wildlife for just over a mile ran for cover from the strange noise, and the Autobots screeched to a halt amidst a hail of gravel and the squeal of tyres.

"What in the pit was that?" Sunstreaker roared, his sleek Dodge Viper body quickly uprighting itself and reshaping into his robot form. He instinctively brought his plasma rifle out of subspace and began searching for targets. A few metres away, his red mirror image transformed as well, also readying his weapon. Jazz transformed last, ejecting the Matrix from his trunk as he did so. He caught it mid-air, and flung it angrily onto the grass at the edge of the road.

Immediately, the song in his head disappeared. Distraught and defeated, Jazz dropped to his knees, slumping forward slightly. The twins looked at one another briefly, real concern mingling with the desire to make fun of Jazz's uncharacteristic outburst, and the fact he had just thrown an item that could be described as 'holy' away like it was nothing. Sideswipe walked over to Jazz, something approaching a sardonic smile starting to cross his lips. The younger mech began to say something along the lines of 'Temper, temper', but stopped when he saw Jazz's visor. Jazz looked up at Sideswipe with haunted optics, the green light the red twin had seen there beginning to fade.

"We seriously need to get rid of that thing", he gasped. "Right now."

O o O o O

_The Ark, Colorado_

Optimus Prime hadn't known what had hit him. It had been a quiet morning. The usual drills and scans had been performed early on, Red Alert had organised a security briefing for that afternoon, and business had been all but concluded. There was no recorded Decepticon activity, there had been no local disasters; the world was spinning as it should, and all was well. After a few hours, Prime had sent Ironhide and Prowl for a short break. As silence descended, save for the whispering mechanisms of Teletran-one, Optimus Prime breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in his chair, and began to wonder when Jazz and the twins would be back from their important mission.

Without warning, a searing pain stabbed through Prime's chest and abdomen, forcing him to double over. The pain stopped for a moment, then returned with greater intensity. A hammering discord of noise flooded his audio receptors, his optics swam before blanking out all together, and Prime slumped forward out of the chair and onto his knees. His air intakes struggling to cool his internal systems, and his mind reeling, Prime tried calling for help. All that he could muster was a strangled whisper.

He had felt something like this before, he began to remember, just with much less veracity. As the sound began to dissipate, and the pain began to fade, the memory of the previous incident began to flood back. It had been thousands of years ago, on Cybertron, when Prime had helped the Cybertronian High Council to relocate the Matrix of Combination. Generally regarded as the weakest of the three Teardrops of Primus, the reaction his own Matrix had given to the presence of its sibling had left Prime feeling shaken, to say the least.

In that moment, he had felt both the voice of the Matrix of Life and that of the Matrix of Combination, singing in tandem. He had held the Matrix of Life for so long that its plainsong had become almost a memory. When the two matrices had begun responding to one another, the effect had been both painful and elating for Prime; he could feel the two ancient devices communing, and while it caused him discomfort, it awed him to behold the event. This was the same, and yet drastically different.

The sheer power that he felt coursing through the sound, as the Matrix of Power reached out to its brethren, had been unreal. As Prime's optics came back on-line, his thoughts instantly went out to Jazz. After carrying the Matrix for this length of time, he had no doubt that he would have become attuned to its presence. If the reaction from Prime's Matrix had been this strong, he could only imagine how the saboteur was holding up after the experience. Jazz was strong, Prime knew that; it was the reason he had trusted him with the mission in the first place. But he hadn't known the reaction would be this strong, and Prime now worried about his colleagues. Slowly getting to his feet, Prime opened a comm-link to Ironhide.

"What's up, Prime?" came the veteran warrior's familiar drawl. "You okay? You sound shook up."

"I'm fine", Prime managed. "But Jazz and the twins may not be. I need you to arrange every available Autobot into patrols, get every road covered and find them as quickly as possible. I'll contact the Aerialbots and Powerglide and get them to help. We need to move fast on this Ironhide. If the Decepticons realise we're mobilising, we'll be in for a world of trouble."

"Yes, sir", came Ironhide's reply. "I'll spread the word."

O o O o O

_Decepticon Lunar Outpost, Mere Crisium_

"Welcome, friends. A new age is dawning; a new age for the Decepticons!"

Megatron spread his arms wide, addressing the Lunar outpost's modest conference chamber from the platform at one end of the room. His voice carried easily, echoing around the small space. He felt the optics of the gathered Decepticons upon him, and knew that if he didn't convince them to join him soon, his chance of taking back control of his forces from Starscream would be all but lost. This thought in mind, he continued with his speech.

"That traitor, Starscream, has offered us a unique opportunity", he continued. "We have a chance to weed out those who would betray the Decepticon cause, and then strike down the Autobots. United, we can win this war once and for all!"

A derisive snort cut through the silence left by Megatron's proclamation. Moments later, the same source let out a low, menacing laugh. The deep, rich laughter filled the room, and Megatron searched to find the one disrespectful enough to make fun of him. Whoever it was would pay dearly for the insult. When his optics settled on the source of the laughter, however, he stopped short. The infamous "Butcher of the Bogs" was not a mech to be trifled with.

Snaptrap's reputation was well deserved, and Megatron knew it. A warrior and swordsman without peer, the fearsome mech had earned his title by single-handedly wiping out an entire Autobot regiment whilst based in Cybertron's southern rust-swamps. Now, his pearlescent-green and purple paintwork glinting in the conference chamber lights, he leaned against one of the support columns without an apparent care in the world. Around him, his team, the Seacons, tensed slightly, sensing a possible confrontation. Snaptrap showed no outward sign of readying for a fight, but a warrior of his calibre rarely showed that he was ready to attack. Not until it was too late, at least.

"Cut to the chase, Megatron", the Seacon commander rumbled from behind his battle mask. "It's a long journey from Cybertron, and I didn't make the trip to hear grand speeches of opportunity. Tell us what you want, and what's in it for us. We'll do the rest."

"Here, here!" chimed Tantrum and Razorclaw, two members of the Predacons, another specialist combat group that Megatron had contacted. Feeling control of the situation slipping from his grasp, Megatron gave a curt nod to Soundwave, who had stationed himself at the back of the room. Silently, the dark blue communications officer slipped from the room. Watching him go, Megatron answered the question with as much frankness as he felt prudent.

"Starscream has usurped my position as commander", he began. "I want it back. To make matters worse, Starscream has found out a very important piece of information." Soundwave walked back into the room, and nodded to Megatron. Everything was in place. Megatron nodded his ascension, and Soundwave began to manipulate one of the controls on his chest plate. Moments later, a holographic image shimmered into life above the heads of the assembled Decepticons. Most of them recognized it at once as the Autobot's Matrix of Leadership.

"I know what you're thinking", Megatron said, unable to keep a smug tone from his voice, "and you would be wrong. This is not the Matrix of Leadership. That infernal device, which has cost us more battles over the years than I care to recount, still resides with my nemesis, Prime. This", and here, he gestured grandly, in the fashion of a magician who has his audience enthralled, "is the lost Matrix of Power."

"Which means?" Dirge cut in. The rest of the gathered mechs looked at Megatron, the same question evident in their optics.

"Which means that we have a chance at finally winning the war", Megatron all but whispered. A slow smile crossed his features as he warmed to his theme. "Sadly, the _traitor_ has the advantage of time. This device is currently in the hands of a small Autobot convoy, making its way back to the Ark. In less than an hour, Starscream and his lackeys are going to ambush that convoy. If we can intercept his forces just after they deal with the Autobots, then we have a chance of taking this Matrix for ourselves; after our esteemed colleagues have done all of the work, of course."

"Good idea", a voice from the crowd murmured, just loudly enough to be heard. When everyone looked to it's source, Rotorswitch, he looked around for a few moments in an embarrassed fashion, then decided to continue his thought. "I was just thinking, out loud apparently, that Starscream is unlikely to take a large force on an ambush mission such as this. Like any other paranoid personality, he'll keep a mission like that to a minimum of warriors, mechs that he'll trust. Barring any damage that the Autobots will do to him and his team, Starscream will be at his weakest just after the attack." The tactical assault specialist sat back in his chair, and looked to Megatron with an apologetic expression. "Sorry to interrupt", he finished.

"Not at all", Megatron replied grimly, his tone explaining that better than words his annoyance. "As I was about to say, our window of opportunity will be small. I will lead the attack personally, accompanied by Dirge, Ramjet, Soundwave and the Seacons. The rest of you will stay in reserve until needed, just in case Starscream has anticipated this kind of move. Any more questions?"

The room was silent for a few sparkbeats, while the crowd considered Megatron's words. Every mind present was whirring with the possibilities; a Matrix of their own would give them a chance to finally vanquish the Autobots. Several questions remained that many felt needed to be asked, but for a moment no-one seemed willing. After the pause had passed the point of being 'comfortable', Snaptrap once again rose to the occasion.

"So, mighty Megatron", Snaptrap growled. "Would you be so kind as to answer my original question? What's in it for us? I am under no illusion that you will claim this prize for yourself, and neither is anyone else here. What will you offer us that will stop one of us claiming this Matrix? More to the point, how do you intend to take it for yourself?"

"Simply put, the Matrix will not answer to anyone but me", Megatron hissed. "It may not have known my touch for millennia, but it will remember. Starscream will not be able to unlock its power immediately, I'm sure of it. If he can even unlock it at all. Therein lies our window of opportunity. To the matter of trust, well, Snaptrap, I asked you all here for two reasons. Firstly, you all know a good deal when you see one. Secondly, most of you hate Starscream as much as I do. As for your payment, well, you will all be paid well. Soundwave has the details for you. But we have to act quickly, or all of this will be for nothing. Now who is with me?!"

There was another pause, then the group broke into a roar of ascension, led by Razorclaw and the Predacons. It was all the answer Megatron needed. He watched as his Decepticons began to make preparations for the coming attack, or accosted Soundwave for the details of their payment. All, that is, save for Snaptrap. The ancient commander was aiming a level stare at Megatron from his corner of the room. The gaze, whilst apparently emotionless, carried volumes of information for anyone who knew the Seacon. He was ruthless to the point of being dangerous to his own forces, and would stop at nothing to win.

_I'm going to have to watch that one_, Megatron thought to himself, as he stepped down from the platform and joined the crowd. _Everything may depend upon it..._

O o O o O

_Colorado, USA, thirty miles from The Ark_

At first, the sound was barely noticeable. As Jazz, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe tore along the road, the low rumble was lost amongst the growl of engines and the sound of tyres on the road. Having recovered from the strange events of earlier, Jazz had decided that getting back to the Ark was more important than avoiding the attention of police patrols. The three Autobots had picked up the pace considerably, pushing themselves and their alternate forms to the limit.

Sideswipe was the first to notice it. The red Viper cut the rev's to his engine for a moment, in an effort to make hearing a little easier. Grinning inwardly at how daft the inclination was, the young warrior re-accelerated and switched his sensor arrays to full. At first, he found nothing, then a set of blips showed up on the very edge of sensor range. Whatever they were, Sideswipe remarked to himself, they were moving fast. At first, he figured that they might be human fighter jets on patrol. But then, as the jets resolved themselves onto his long-range visual scans, 'Swipe realised something else. They were travelling far too fast to be humans...

"Guys, we've got a problem", he all but yelled over the comm-link.

"What kind of problem?" Sunstreaker growled in reply, his twin's concern making him tense.

"The Seeker kind!" Jazz said before Sideswipe could reply. "Three inbound. Looks like Starscream brought his entire family. And I'm picking up more signals coming from the south, energon signiatures read as five more Decepticons. Looks like we're in deep trouble guys."

"Ah, Pit!" Sunstreaker swore. "Jazz, you gotta run for it. Me and Sides will keep 'em busy. Get as far as you can get away with, then start calling for help."

"Guys, I can't just...", Jazz began to protest, but Sideswipe cut him off.

"Sunny's right Jazz. Your cargo is more important than anything else. Get it to Prime. We'll handle things here. Go, now!"

To emphasize their point, the twins began to brake sharply, throwing themselves into an impressive synchronized drift as they did so. Before they came to a complete halt, the pair transformed and brought their weapons out of subspace. Their armour glinting in the light, Jazz briefly mused that if anyone could pull off a stunt like this and survive, it was them. They gave him identical, grim smiles, and he knew then that they were right. It was now up to him to make sure that their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

"Good luck", Jazz whispered as he sped away from his friends, his every instinct screaming at him to stay. "Primus be between you and harm, in all the dark places through which you must walk..."

* * *

Authors Notes: This is getting ridiculous now. I finished this chapter, and realized that I need at least one more! Typical. Still, here goes...

Transformers and all affiliated characters are the property of Hasbro/Hastak and not myself. Mores the pity.


	5. Chapter 5

Primus Inter Pares

Chapter Five

"_Gods be between you and harm, in all the dark places through which you must walk..."_- Ancient Egyptian blessing

_Colorado, USA, z- eleven days_

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stood back to back, gazing into the sky. The sun was setting, scattering hues of orange and yellow across the previously azure space above them. In their own ways, the twins gazed wistfully at the sky, and thought about their lives, and how they had been led to this point. Drinking in the natural beauty around them, both mechs, red and yellow alike, came to the same sobering conclusion: they couldn't have picked a more perfect evening on which to die. The silence, and the sombre mood along with it, were broken by the distant report of a sonic boom. Looking in the direction of the approaching Seekers, then at his twin, Sideswipe attempted to lighten the mood.

"Whaddya reckon, Sunny?" he asked, a grin slowly crossing his faceplate. "Last one to bag a bad guy buys the beers?"

"You what?" Sunstreaker replied, raising an optic ridge.

"It's a human term I heard once", Sideswipe said. "From Spike, I think. So, is it a deal?"

"Oh", Sunstreaker sighed, his tone showing that he was humouring his brother. "All right. But you can keep the beer, Sides. Make it a can of high-grade, and you're on."

"Done. So, plan of action?" At this, Sunstreaker broke into a savage grin. It was a look that Sideswipe knew all too well.

"We do what we do best", Sunstreaker growled. "We take the fight to the enemy, and we give 'em hell!"

_The Ark, Colorado_

"Optimus Prime to the control room, code Red Emergency. I repeat, Optimus Prime to the control room..."

Optimus had been attempting to recharge in his quarters when the alarm had sounded. He had immediately woken, heading out into the corridors even before Prowl's voice had sounded over the PA system. As the emergency status came into effect, and the other Autobots rushed to their stations, Prime had a few moments to register a swell of pride in his colleagues. They were the very best the Autobots had to offer, and he knew that they could deal with any crisis that was headed their way. It was with these thoughts that Prime ran through the entrance to the control room.

"What is the situation, Prowl? Are we under attack?" Prime asked as soon as he crossed the threshold. The moment Prime's baritone filled the room, the excited chatter that had been present dropped to a whisper. Prime's second in command turned in his chair, facing Optimus with a grave expression etched on his features.

"Yes and no", came Prowl's terse reply. "We just picked up a distress call from Jazz. He's just over thirty minutes away, with Seekers on his tail. The twins have opted to act as a decoy to buy him some time, but they're severely outnumbered. And sir", Prowl added as he stood and moved closer to Prime, his voice dropping to a whisper, "the Decepticon's timing is too spot-on to be mere coincidence. They arrived just after the team reached the communications black-spot. It would be my guess..."

"That they know about the Matrix", Prime hissed, finishing the sentence.

"Precisely", Prowl confirmed. "But that isn't our only problem."

The black and white Datsun turned back to Teletran One, and keyed in a command. An instant later, and an image came up on the screen, displaying the mountain pass that led up to the entrance of the Ark. At first, couldn't see anything strange about the scene. As he focussed his optics, however, he noticed that a section of the image was rippling. As he stared for a few moments, a patch of otherwise blank air began to shift and coil, folding in upon itself impossibly, until Prime's optics began to register pain.

"It appears to be some kind of temporal distortion", Prowl said, snapping Prime's attention away from the image. "Every scan we run shows massive amounts of energy, and that's about it. Any time we scan to closely, or put the sensor gain too high, the sensors scramble and shut down. It even hurts to look at." Prowl noticed Prime's pained expression at that point, and cast a worried expression in his commander's direction.

"I'm fine, Prowl", Prime said, answering the unspoken question in his friend's gaze. "The question is, is it natural or artificial. If it's natural, then we've got a big problem. If it's artificial, then it could be an attack."

"Plan of action, sir?" Prowl asked.

"Send the Aerialbots out to rendezvous with Jazz", Prime began. "And send the Protectobots out to aid the twins. Then get everyone else out to this distortion. If it's an attack, we'll be ready for them. Advise extreme caution to all concerned. Roll out!"

O o O o O

"Decepticons, attack!"

Diving toward the Autobots below him at breakneck speed, Starscream couldn't help but try some kind of battle-cry. He had led countless assaults before this one, but never before had he done so as _commander_ of the Decepticons. And at that moment in time, he didn't mind admitting that the sensation was intoxicating. With his brother Seekers alongside him, both roaring their ascension to his order, Starscream felt invincible.

Below him, two of his most hated adversaries awaited him. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the twins that had caused him so many problems in the past, stood staring up at Starscream. At this distance, they looked laughably small, pitiful almost. _Yes_, he thought to himself, _I will show them the error of their ways. I will show them the folly of defying the mighty Starscream! _These thoughts coursing through his mind, Starscream fired, sending a hail of laser bolts and concussion missiles shrieking toward the foe.

He was more than a little surprised when he missed. The twins moved far faster than he had anticipated, and almost all of his leading shots missed. Those that made contact barely scratched the twin mech's armour plating. Even more surprising, though, the twins responded by taking to the air themselves. Both of them. In the past, Starscream mused, only the red one had ever flown, and then not with half as much grace as they both were at the moment. The Autobots had obviously started upgrading their forces, and this brought an unusual thrill to the Seeker. This would be more of a challenge than he thought.

O o O o O

"Status report!", Prowl called. Ironhide, who had just finished arranging the other Autobots present into a workable defence, stepped forward. A mere ten minutes after Optimus Prime had given the order to surround the temporal distortion, Ironhide and eight other 'bots had arrived on scene, taking great care to keep a good distance away from the focal point. Two minutes later, and Prowl had arrived on scene.

"We're setting up barricades now", Ironhide rumbled as he approached, "and we're keeping them well out of that things' area of effect. Now all we can do is wait and see what it's gonna do next."

Before Prowl could reply with so much as a 'good work', reality fell apart. While the two warriors began talking, the distortion began to move. It shifted almost imperceptibly at first, but in less than five seconds the rippling in the air had grown in size and force. With a blinding flash, and a sickening tearing sound, the temporal distortion began to expand. The newly formed rift yawned wide, moving toward the Autobots with terrifying speed, eating up the ground between itself and the barricades.

"Everybody get down!" Prowl roared, rather unnecessarily. The Autobots nearest the expanding anomaly were already diving for cover, quickly followed by their comrades. The rift, its core shifting in and out of the normally visible spectrum, came closer and closer, and Prowl began to entertain he thought that they were doomed. But at the very last, mere metres from the Autobot defences, the rift stopped its advance. The wall of coruscating energy stood there for a moment, just out of arms reach, and then with a deafening wail collapsed. In an instant it had reached its starting point, collapsing to critical mass and glowing like new-born sun, and then it died.

As the anomaly disappeared, it released another flash of light followed by a shockwave of energy. The wave dissipated quickly, striking the Autobots with barely any force at all. As Prowl stood, attempting to clear the after-images from his vision, he was greeted by the strangest sight he could have imagined. Where the temporal rift had been, there was now a large, metallic figure, huddled in a crouching position. It was a Transformer, of that Prowl was certain. The clear signs of Cybertronian design were all over the crouching form. But it all looked subtly wrong, and used unfamiliar materials.

Warily, the Autobots circled around the stranger, training their weapons upon his white and dark blue chassis. The newcomer seemed unaware of their presence, or else unconcerned. Slowly, the stranger stood, stretching his limbs and raising his bulky form upright. At once, Prowl and the others took in just how big this new mech was; put bluntly, he was huge. He stood at least head and shoulders above the Autobots, and was powerfully built. Gold optics powered on-line with a slight flash, and all at once he became aware of his surroundings.

Moving much faster that anyone would have thought possible, he brought his arms up, pointing one blue armoured fist at Prowl and the other at Ironhide. The mech's forearms began to shift and re-shape, transforming into a pair of identical cannons. At the same time, sections of his shoulders opened out into multiple rocket clusters, which in turn located targets in Inferno and Trailblazer. The tall mech snapped his head from side to side, quickly ascertaining the locations of every threat in the area. Finally, after a few sparkbeats, he spoke.

"Autobot or Decepticon?" the warrior demanded, his deep voice sounding eerily familiar. The question caught everyone off guard, and for a moment the Autobots were speechless. Apparently taking this as a form of threat, the stranger stiffened his posture and roared the question again. "Autobot or Decepticon? FRIEND OR FOE?"

"Autobot!" Prowl yelled in reply. "Now identify yourself, or we'll be forced to open fire."

The newcomer regarded Prowl for seconds that seemed like an age, his golden optics glaring at the security chief as though they could see into his very spark. Prowl thought he heard the white and blue mech whisper something along the lines of "it worked" to himself, but it was muffled by the newcomer's battle mask. A few more moments passed, and the stranger came to a decision. With a flick of his wrists, the cannons receded, as did the missile launchers. He straightened slightly, relaxing his stance, and with a slight shake of his head retracted his battle mask into the sides of his jawline. Without it, the face of the stranger seemed a little friendlier.

"I, too, am an Autobot", the stranger said softly, attempting half a smile. "I come from your future; by the human calendar, the year twenty-eight sixty-two. Nearly nine hundred years from now."

"What's your name, stranger?" Ironhide asked. "And why are you here?"

"My name is Artemis Prime", said the blue and white giant, his baritone sounding so much like the Prime they all knew. "And I am here because you are all in grave danger."

O o O o O

Sideswipe threw himself hard to his left, narrowly dodging a hail of fire from Thundercracker. A short distance away, he caught a glimpse of Sunstreaker desperately trying to hit Skywarp, and the red twin allowed himself a brief smile. All things considered, the fight could have been going a lot worse. As it was, Starscream had left the fight just a few minutes in, leaving the twins to face his two younger brothers. Sideswipe knew that the Seeker was after Jazz and the Matrix, but there was nothing he could do. He had sent another distress call, and then the four remaining combatants had paired off. Ten minutes later, and the Combaticons had turned up, complicating matters considerably.

The twins had since been pushing their new forms to the limit, dealing with not only Thundercracker and Skywarp, but Vortex and Blastoff as well. Below the dogfight, Onslaught, Swindle and Brawl were pouring fire into the sky, attempting to aid their air-borne comrades. Sideswipe banked sharply once more, spinning mid-flight to bring his rifle to bear. As soon as he saw his pursuer come into sight, he snapped off a series of tightly packed shots, sending bolts of green-white plasma screaming toward the blue and grey jet.

Thundercracker barely outmanoeuvred the stream of fire, accelerating hard to rise above the plasma blasts. As he did so, he charged a sonic burst, arcs of bluish energon playing over his fingers as he concentrated his unique gift. Firing standard weapons had proved to be all but useless, as the two Autobots had proven to be far more agile than anticipated. A wide dispersion sonic burst, Thundercracker figured, would give them nowhere to run. Grinning sardonically, he brought the charge in his hands up to critical mass.

"Eat this, Autobot slime!" he roared, and clapped his hands together, unleashing a torrent of cohesive sound toward Sideswipe. Faced with the expanding energy wall approaching him, Sideswipe only had one place to go: straight down. He cut power to his jet pack, knowing that he didn't have time to turn and apply thrust, and simply began to free-fall. Sideswipe spread his arms and rolled backward with the grace of an Olympic diver, and began to drop away from the threat. He got out of the way just in time, narrowly being missed by Thundercracker's attack.

Vortex, however, was not so fortunate. He had been attempting to sneak up behind Sunstreaker, while the yellow twin's attention was fixed on the distant form of Skywarp. The Seeker had pulled away from the fight for a few moments, his sleek jet form dark against the blue sky as he wheeled, bringing his weaponry to bear. With a resonating battle cry, the black and purple fighter opened fire, sending laser bolts and concussion missiles towards his target. The attack was poorly timed, though. Skywarp's shots had two effects, neither of them helping the Decepticon side of the conflict; firstly, they forced Sunstreaker to take evasive action, taking him out of the way of Thundercracker's attack. Secondly, the display of firepower had distracted Vortex, and he was still in the way as the sonic burst hit.

As the cacophony of energised noise washed over the helicopter, and the ensuing shockwave punched him unceremoniously from the air, the other combatants were only vaguely aware of his scream as he fell from the air. Sunstreaker roared a challenge to the approaching Skywarp, then opened fire with his own weapon. Skywarp responded in kind, and the space between them filled with fire. Both parties manoeuvred out of harm's way, Skywarp transforming as he did so. The young Seeker opened fire once more, sending his shots towards Sunstreaker's right side. Skywarp teleported just as Sunstreaker jinked to his left.

Sunstreaker was briefly aware of a harsh _crack_, followed by an impact, as Skywarp tackled him in mid air. The Seeker swung his left arm around Sunstreaker's throat, using the other to punch the Autobot in the back. Sunstreaker began to flail his elbows backwards, attempting to throw off his attacker. His attempts unsuccessful, and with Blastoff closing in fast, Sunstreaker decided that drastic measures were needed. He did the one thing that Skywarp did not expect; like his twin mere moments before, he took a firm hold of Skywarp's arm, and cut the power to his jet pack.

Suddenly forced to carry a lot of extra weight, Skywarp's engines raised in pitch to a near-scream. He began punching Sunstreaker harder and faster, frantically trying to free himself as the pair began to lose height. They dropped at a steady rate, Skywarp unable to keep both of them airborne. All the while, Sunstreaker clung on to his new mode of transport, waiting for the moment when he could deal with his opponent. As his internal instruments registered that they were only two hundred metres above ground, he acted.

With his right hand still holding Skywarp's arm, Sunstreaker reached back with his left and began trying to grab Skywarp's leg. He missed, and when Skywarp realised what he was doing he began to fight even harder to break free of the Autobot's crushing grip. It was no use, though, and after two more attempts Sunstreaker achieved his goal. He grabbed Skywarp's ankle joint and dug his fingers into the weaker points of the armour, eliciting a howl of pain from the Seeker. With all of his strength, Sunstreaker began to pull, dragging Skywarp off of his back and around to his front.

A sickening sense of the impending rising in his chest, Skywarp began to flail helplessly, trying to free himself from the vice-like grip of the yellow warrior. Desperately, he tried to teleport, but his systems wouldn't let him do it; with Sunstreaker's fingers embedded in his lower leg, and a power conduit breached, the teleportation system simply shut down. Screaming in frustration, Skywarp was pulled, inch by inch, until he was practically face to face with Sunstreaker. Sunny leaned his face closer to that of his enemy; the violent fury etched into his features sending a thrill of fear through the Seeker, and stunning him into silence.

"If I'm going down, you sorry son of a glitch", Sunstreaker hissed between clenched dental plates, "then by Primus, I'm taking you with me. I'm personally gonna make sure that I see you in the Pit. Time for a flying lesson." And with that, using the last limits of his strength, Sunny pulled them both around, spinning them around in mid air until the sky was below them and the earth above. Sunstreaker re-ignited his jet pack, launching both mechs toward the ground with a terrifying surge of speed.

A short distance away, Sideswipe, who had taken the fight to the Combaticons on the ground, was stunned to see his opponents stop firing for a moment and look up. Believing that Thundercracker was beginning a flanking manoeuvre, he spun on the spot and trained his weapon on the sky. He spotted Thundercracker, but the blue jet wasn't looking at Sideswipe either. He followed the Seeker's line of sight, and what he saw nearly made him cry out with shock. He couldn't believe his optics; he was watching his twin brother die.

Wrapped in a deathly embrace, the two warriors fell from the heavens like something from the ancient sagas. Good and evil, bright yellow angel and purple-black daemon, the two warriors above him descended upon roaring contrails of fire and with cries of fury. Sideswipe mouthed the word closest to his spark, _no_, in total silence, unable to speak. Moments stretched into ages, his own disbelief at what his optics were witnessing slowing down his perception. They fell, faster and faster, until they stopped with such suddenness that it seemed unreal.

For a moment, the only sound in Sideswipe's world was the shattering of his spark. His whole existence focussed in upon a little cloud of dust and smoke, rising steadily from the other side of a copse of trees. Nothing else mattered. He was briefly aware of shots being fired, of sirens blaring, and of a blue fire truck passing close by. He barely registered the sounds of combat rejoined, of Hot Spot roaring _"Protectobots, form on me"_, followed by the screeching sounds of metal merging and the pounding of giant footfalls. And in the end, Sideswipe was only vaguely aware of large yet gentle hands lifting him into the air. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. How could it, when _he _was gone...

O o O o O

Jazz was running as fast as he could, trying to get away from his attacker. Damage to his leg slowed him considerably, and he was forced to dodge through the trees in an attempt to stay out of sight. Above him, the maniacally screaming form of Starscream performed another strafing run, and yet more fire fell about the saboteur. Panting, wincing with pain, Jazz backed against one of the larger trees, and surveyed the damage. It didn't look good.

Starscream had caught him by surprise, the opening shots shredding two of his tyres, and a salvo of missiles blasting a great rent in the road and forcing Jazz to transform. Carrying the Matrix in his arms, he had been unable to return fire when Starscream had wheeled around and opened fire for a second time. Jazz had been forced to dive into the tree line, but not before a series of shots tore through his leg and damaged three major servo motors. Looking at the mangled mess that was his leg, Jazz mused that he had actually been lucky.

He would need to be luckier still if he was going to escape. He only needed to hold on for ten minutes; the Aerialbots were on their way, and Starscream was anything but a match for Superion. Pushing himself upright, Jazz began to run as best he could, from cover to cover, heading toward a point where he could send a distress signal, and attempt to get help from a nearer source. Above, the sound of Starscream's engines grew louder, a warning that another strafing run was about to begin.

Without warning, a missile streaked past Jazz, missing him by less than three feet, and impacted into the soft earth. With a roar, the weapon released its payload, and Jazz was launched from his feet and into the trees that shielded him from the road. He felt the searing heat start tearing into his chassis, and multiple impacts as he smashed into, and then through, several trees. Thrown clear of the tree-line, his ruined form came to rest in the centre of the highway. Warning lights and signals flaring within his vision, and mind-numbing pain coursing through his circuits, Jazz was amazed to find himself still holding the Matrix.

Despite the incredible heat that had just assaulted him, and the damage he had taken, the venerated artefact appeared untouched. It remained flawless, intact, and eerily cool to the touch. Jazz cradled it against what remained of his chest plate, attempting to protect it as a parent would a sparkling. A few metres away, Starscream landed, transforming just above the ground and landing gently. A triumphant smile crossed the Seeker's features as he looked at Jazz, appraising the damage his last shot had done. Content that Jazz was not a threat, he walked toward his prostrate foe.

"Poor Autobot", he crooned, dropping down on one knee when he reached Jazz's side. "Where are your friends? Where is your precious Optimus Prime? Why, I do believe you're all alone! When Laserbeak and Buzzsaw reported what they had found, about your most precious cargo, I couldn't believe my luck."

Jazz spat something defiant at Starscream, just too quiet for Starscream to make out. The tone left no illusion that it was anything but an insult, however, and Starscream's simpering smile quickly dropped into a vicious sneer. Balling his right hand into a fist, he swiped it backwards across Jazz's jaw. Then he took a hold of the Matrix of Power, feeling a tingling sensation as he did so, and wrenched it from Jazz's weakening grip. The Seeker gazed at his prize, lost for a moment in dreams of his own destiny, then turned to leave.

"You know, I was going to kill you", he said, barely above a whisper. "And out of the kindness of my spark, I was going to do it quickly. But I've decided upon something far more fitting. I'm going to let you live, live with this, your greatest failure. That, I think, will do more damage than I ever could."

And with that, Starscream was gone.

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, that's it. The end of Primus Inter Pares, part one of Transformers: Renaissance. Part two, Corona Nox, will be coming soon! I hope you enjoyed this so far. Please review if you can! 

Transformers and all associated characters are the property of Hasbro/Hastak Inc.

Artemis Prime is based upon the character Artemis, from the story "Lost But Not Forgotten", by Prime Revolver. He is used with permission of his creator, for which I am eternally grateful. Thank you so much, my friend!

Well, in the words of a famous man, that's all folks!


End file.
